


Back in 1963

by prettyskylark



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Benny Watts is hot what can I say, F/M, and I have a thing for rolled up sleeves in white shirts so here we are, could be post canon but also could be set during Beth's stay in Benny's apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyskylark/pseuds/prettyskylark
Summary: Beth realized she has never seen Benny’s face clean shaven. Of course she knew he was not born with his moustache but she could hardly remember if she has ever seen him without it. She might have thought it would be easy to imagine the difference and it not being that significant but she was wrong.
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 12
Kudos: 239





	Back in 1963

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw this: https://ohhthereuare.tumblr.com/post/635965384185577472 photoshoot of Thomas Brodie Sangster I literally got breathless and I can assume Beth would experience a smiliar reaction. Enjoy!

Her shoes hit the concrete ground with a dull, satisfying thud with every step she made down to the apartment, paper bag full of groceries perched on her hip. She could have walked that path with her eyes closed without tripping by now. Beth bought the groceries most of the time because she simply enjoyed fulfilling this task. She liked being able to choose her favorite products and not just the cheapest ones or tagged with the telltale yellow sticker of sale. She liked making the decision of what she really wanted to eat instead of accepting whatever meals her caretakers would provide. And she liked feeling capable of caring for someone, even in the smallest of ways.

The doors were unlocked so she knew the other inhabitant of that underground, dim space hasn’t left home yet. Over the sound of the radio playing she could hear some rustling coming from Benny’s room. Beth set up the paper bag on the small kitchen counter and started unpacking its contents. A container of milk that Beth liked to pour to her tea, never her coffee because they both took it black unless they were sipping on some in the middle of the night while studying the chessboard. Two croissants that were an indulgence but she couldn’t resist their temptation after her short stay in Paris. Two flavors of jam, a stick of butter, and some ingredients for the dinner she had planned later in the evening. She wished she could have bought a bottle of wine to that as well but the rules haven’t changed so lemon water would have to suffice.

“I thought you were supposed to leave an hour ago!” she commented loudly in the direction of the other room.

Two mugs with dried coffee outlines coloring the rims remained on the little table so she reached out to pick them up and put away into the sink. The rest of the apartment looked surprisingly tidy and she looked around it with contentment. Golden light from the streetlamps was pouring through the little windows and spilling onto the floor, mixing with the violet shadow of the twilight. It was her favorite time of the day. Made her feel comfortable, safe, timeless in a way.

“Yeah but they postponed it so I hope not to be too late for dinner…”

She turned from the sink and looked up at him entering the room, a look of pleasant neutrality on her face that quickly froze and became unreadable even to herself.

Beth thought she knew Benny’s face almost as well as she knew her own. First from the frontpages of magazines and his own books then up close and very personal she memorized the shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the arch of his lips. She even prided herself on being able to recognize and read the subtle changes in his facial expressions, an advantage she liked to use on and off the chessboard.

But in that moment Beth realized she has never seen Benny’s face _clean shaven_. Of course she knew he was not born with his moustache but she could hardly remember if she has ever seen him without it. She might have thought it would be easy to imagine the difference and it not being that significant but she was wrong. A sudden youthfulness made it almost impossible for her to believe he was even a day older than when she had seen him for the first time. Younger, even. His hair wasn’t styled back either, soft strands curling and falling messily over his eyes. He was wearing a white shirt, slightly wrinkled in his usual fashion, with sleeves rolled back to his elbows, revealing slender forearms that she adored so much. Beth always thought he looked somehow interesting, mostly thanks to his confident demeanor, but now he looked simply _dashing_. As she took him in her heart started racing, falling and stumbling every few beats against her ribcage.

Benny’s middle and ring finger twitched in a disguised sign of uneasiness. He cleared his throat. Beth watched his Adam’s apple bop up and down. The top of his shirt was still slightly open and underneath a couple of silver necklaces shone upon his bare skin. She clenched her fist and was suddenly somewhere else entirely.

It’s 1963 again, bright morning sunlight cutting the air like a blade and she’s standing in an unfamiliar building ready to participate in the Kentucky State Championship despite the unwelcoming glances of strange men around her. Not only a girl but also the youngest player in the competition. She has to appear more confident than she feels, otherwise they will try to eat her alive before the real game has ever begun. Beth’s looking at her own name being put at the bottom of the list—too far away from the top players that’s she’s itching to beat, too many people between them to make her feel safe—when she spots him with the corner of her eyes, studying the board by her side. Only this time she doesn’t see elegantly styled black hair, but a mass of blond curls. And when their gazes meet, the eyes looking back at her are about three shades darker, the color of black wooden pawns. He’s not that old but he looks way younger, she’d mistakenly say two or three years older than her. He’s wearing his black turtleneck sweater but the necklaces haven’t made an appearance yet. He seems amused by her and she doesn’t regard him as a threat, yet her palms start sweating. When they’re playing, he’s wearing one silver ring and the delicate yet purposeful way in which he’s moving around the pieces are making Beth feel hot on the back of her neck. Maybe he wins, he _has_ been a phenomenal chess player before she has even learned about the game after all, but the smile he gives her over the chessboard, one corner of his mouth cockily crooked, is nothing short of endearing. But in case that she wins, his eyes still sparkle warmly and he shakes her hand, always grateful for a new lesson. He would introduce her to a different world of chess altogether. Instead of the insurmountable fortress of male respect, he would lead her through the backdoor of clever combinations and cutthroat variations. Mischievous spirit of chess with his quick fingers and lopsided grin, that’s how she sees him. She has never met any man like him before. Years later when Cloe asks Beth about her love life over too many drinks, she knows what answer she would give. If she had met that boy on her first tournament, she would have lost the game of her heart once and for all.

“Beth?”

Benny’s hesitant voice brought her back to reality. She must have been looking at him with the strangest, most distant expression. He rubbed the back of his neck in a sign of open discomfort. His necklaces caught the light from the streetlamps outside. He studied her as if she was a problematic piece on the chessboard, an unpredictable move he should beware of.

Beth strode across the apartment in quick, determined steps, keeping her eyes fixed on his face. The closer she got the more breathless she felt which, truth be told, was a little ridiculous. She put her hand on both side of his face and brought him close, crashing their lips together in a soft kiss, his mouth already open in surprise so she took advantage of that by tracing the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip and biting on it gently. A low groan escaped his throat in response and Beth’s blood felt like boiling under her skin.

“I like you like this.” They didn’t move apart so Beth nothing back whispered into his parted lips. Her fingers slowly moved down his face, skimming over the soft skin, mapping out the sharpness of his jaw and slenderness of his neck. They finally settled on the white shirt, unsure yet whether to button it up or down.

“Yeah?” his voice came out hoarse but he didn’t seem to care. “Makes me look even younger than you, kid.”

A hint of self-consciousness crept behind his light words. Beth didn’t need to look Benny in the eye to know he had dreaded her reaction which surprised her since he always appeared so sure of who he was and how he looked. The ‘no sex’ rule had been created because Beth couldn’t keep her hands to herself and she liked how he looked every day but looking at him now did _things_ to her. Reckless, electrifying, all-consuming _things_.

“How much time before you have to leave?” her voice a low murmur that vibrated and travelled from her body straight to his. Her fingers seemed to have made up their mind already because they undid another button of his shirt. Benny’s wasted no time either and moved to the zipper of Beth’s dress.

“Enough.” The word sank into the skin behind Beth’s ear where she felt Benny’s lips curving in a mischievous smile. She might not have played (and lost, in more ways than one) against him on that bright morning in 1963 but she was glad to keep playing now.


End file.
